


Still Here

by Renaisty



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Drinking, F/M, Gen, Post-Ragnarok, Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaisty/pseuds/Renaisty
Summary: She wants to throw the bottle at the wall, watch as it breaks and shatters, a bit like her old life. A bit like her new life as well. It breaks beautifully, gracefully; unlike her.The world goes on, and so do they.





	1. Dreamless

**Author's Note:**

> I set out to write Thorkyrie, but this first part got away from me. Asgard's fate resonated with me and when I started writing, I had to delve a little into these feelings. Thor is in the second, slightly longer, part.
> 
> Enjoy, and tell me what you thought! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

She's not drunk.

But the world isn't quite on its axis. The couch underneath her doesn't feel quite real. People's voices are everywhere, and she can't shut them out. She doesn't want to. Voices mean life, they mean people, and they mean she's not alone.

A laugh almost escapes her, but she stops it, until she realises she doesn't have to. She's with her people again. Against all odds, they're here. Their homes are gone, their world is ashes, but they still have each other.

And a spaceship that can take them anywhere in the universe. She's not sure Earth will welcome them, but who cares. They'll find something. She'd found something.

The things she'd done to forget them, to forget _her_ , and yet…

Brunnhilde chokes back a sob, then lets it go, when she remembers where she is. The physical memory of the Valkyries died with Asgard. With the palace, where they'd been lovingly buried. With the gardens, where there'd been statues in their honour. With the buildings that used to bear their names.

They're here, she reminds herself. They're all here. The Valkyrior doesn't need statues, not when they live on in people's memories. They still remembered them, if not exactly as they had been, and they loved them, which was more than had been granted to Hela.

Odin couldn't erase them. Not like Hela.

The thought makes her feel vindicated somehow. Hela had been forgotten by a world who still remembered them. And in the end, she's dead too. Like the Valkyrior. Like Asgard.

Brunnhilde drains the bottle. Oh, she's drunk alright.

She wants to throw the bottle at the wall, watch as it breaks and shatters, a bit like her old life. A bit like her new life as well. Her newest new life, she thinks, is better than dying alone and rich on a shitty planet like Sakaar.

She considers the bottle, bringing it up to the light. It's blue, and intricately carved; some of the most expensive booze on this ship. Plus, she'll have to clean it up later. She thinks better of it.

She throws it anyway.

It breaks beautifully, gracefully; unlike her. It's been a while since she's drunk this much, and that says something. She saw Asgard fall, the barely mended cracks in her heart growing into chasms. Old wounds were scrubbed raw and bleeding, her heart breaking all over again. Her dreams are full of blood and rocks; her loved ones, her lover, and her home.

They're lucky there are so many rooms on the ship. She got her own, so nobody has to see her drink herself into oblivion. Or, well, into sleep.

Soon, her people's voices and the drink lull Brunnhilde into a pleasant haze. She doesn't need to tell herself they're here anymore. She feels it, down to her very bones, Asgard's history, its present and its future, in the burning flames of her people's hearts.

Of her heart.

For so long, she'd been without a hope. Without a dream other than living out her life undisturbed, leaving the memories unstirred and her mind too foggy to hurt her. Now, everything has ended, and everything can begin again. Ragnarok destroyed their home, their world, but in the end, all that's floating in space is rock and gold. In time, all of this can be replaced.

It couldn't take their bravery. Couldn't take their ingenuity, their drive, their inventions and their traditions. Couldn't take the irreplaceable sense of home and community. All of those things, they've taken with them.

It hurts. She can already feel new scar tissue forming over her soul. But they'll find a place to call their own again. They'll rebuild.

"Watch out universe," she whispers, or maybe she just thinks it. "We're still here."

Her sleep is peaceful, quiet; dreamless.


	2. Inside a dream

She wakes up warm, with a blanket over her, one she doesn't remember getting. There are only two people who could have done that.

The broken shards of the bottle are nowhere to be seen.

Brunnhilde sighs. The walls are in their right place, and she's steady on her feet. She leaves her room, taking the shortest route to the storage containers. She's made it her personal mission to deplete the alcohol all by herself if she has to.

She hopes she'll fail.

There are people in the halls, talking, grieving, kids playing. They look at her with awe, with respect, and it makes her heart soar. She missed this.

Taking a new bottle from the storeroom, she takes the long road back to her room.

'Is it true?' they ask. 'You're a Valkyrie?'

She tells them yes; tells them she'll do anything to protect them. It's true. It held true before, when along with her sisters they roamed the skies. It held true until the moment her lover fell, for her. Until the moment Brunnhilde herself fell, but didn't hit the ground, too many bodies in the way.

It holds true now, because she knows she'd give anything for them again. Her heart has broken out of the apathy she tried to force on it, and she thinks maybe the pain she feels is worth it, to be home.

She was war, and she can be war again. This time, she protects her people first and foremost.

The bottle sits unopened on her shelf. The ship is comfortably noisy, and she considers getting up, going to the bridge. She's not needed yet, though. The journey to Earth is long, but simple for the most part. And those two or three rough spots, she'll handle easily.

There's a knock on her door.

"Come in," she calls. She doesn't bother to sit up on the couch, not until she sees who it is.

"Valkyrie," Thor says, inclining his head.

"Your majesty," she says, carefully measured, but not cold. The man has something about him, a kindness, a gentleness that she didn't often associate with Odin.

With the patch over his eye, he looks a lot more like his father, but in their hearts, they are not much alike. Not from what she remembers. Where Odin calculated, Thor doesn't hesitate. Where Odin was harsh, Thor is soft. And where Odin fought for conquest, Thor fights to protect.

She can live with a king like that.

"I wanted to ask if you're alright," he tells her. He doesn't move further than two steps inside the door, or sit, and she's torn between appreciating the thought, and wanting him to move closer.

"I'm fine. This is not out of the ordinary, really. Where you the one who...?" she trails off, gesturing vaguely at the now folded blanket on the arm of the couch.

"I heard the crash, and came to see if everything was okay."

Understandable, she thinks. His room is right next to hers.

It comes to her, then. A moment inside a dream. In the low, warm light, Brunnhilde could see him, picking up the blue glass.

"I was gonna do that," she mumbled.

"Do you really mind?" he said, eyepatch gleaming.

"No, go ahead. Can't stop you, can I?"

The world tilted, and she thinks she curled further into the couch. Then it was warm, and Thor was smoothing the blanket on her shoulders.

He was so beautiful, with that small, sad smile on his face. She must have made to kiss him, but he drew back.

"You've drunk," he said, not accusing.

"So 've you," she shot back. She could smell it on the breath that caressed her cheek. "We're still here, you know," she said. "It hurts, but we're here."

"My friends are dead," he whispered, and his eye closed, as if he was in physical pain. When he looked at her again, she saw unshed tears in his eye's shine.

"So are mine," she smiled bitterly.

"I'm here."

The words bring her back to the present. It's so similar to last night, but now his earnest expression makes her want to smile, and his words sound like a promise.

"Sorry, wasn't paying attention," she grimaces.

"I wanted to let you know, I'm here. If you ever need a friend." He hesitates, uncharacteristically. "Or… someone."

"I haven't drunk yet today," she says. "But for future consideration, if 'someone' would like to know… my feelings haven't changed."

It's a delicate situation. She's no longer a part of the legion, a soldier, no longer bound to Asgard and him by anything but her heart and the blood in her veins. Yet he is their king still.

The world goes on, and so do they. As a people, and as people.

"I see. May I…?" he asks, and she gestures for him to get further inside. The small smile on his face still makes her heart flutter.

She doesn't rush to kiss him. Rather, she stands to face him, purposefully raising her arms to rest around his neck, her fingers brushing the short hairs at his nape. His hands are on her waist, light but sure in their touch.

The first kiss is soft. The second, not so. At the third she stops keeping count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and constructive criticism always welcome. Thanks for reading!


End file.
